


anyplace is paradise

by lovenote



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bottom Carl Grimes, College, Developing Relationship, Lingerie, M/M, One-Eyed Carl Grimes, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sex Work, Sugar Daddy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-07
Updated: 2017-09-07
Packaged: 2018-12-25 05:08:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12028785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovenote/pseuds/lovenote
Summary: When college life leaves Carl penniless, he'll do just about anything to get back on his feet.or: carl is a semi-irresponsible and promiscuous nineteen year old who has somehow managed to survive purely off of boxed mac and cheese and sheer willpower. a friend suggests sugar daddy dating sites to see him through it.





	anyplace is paradise

"How likely is it that this whole thing will eventually blow up in my face or get me killed?"

"Pretty likely."

They both pause.

"But you're still going to do it, right?" Enid asks.

Carl grins at her. "Well, yeah."

* * *

Carl finds himself _actually_ going through with it. 

Setting up a profile is easy enough. A few pictures, a clean, straight to the point bio that says enough about who he is to be intriguing, rather than put someone to sleep. What else is there to it? 

Turns out, finding extremely rich men who are willing to blow _all_ their cash on a nineteen year old with one eye is a bit of a task in itself.

Prowling every corner of the internet for tips and tricks from the more experienced, signing up for as many websites designed for this sort of thing that exist, Carl eventually contemplates just scrapping the idea all together.

It's not that _nobody_ is interested in him — in fact, there have been a few men to reach out through various sites, though far from the ideal silver foxes he was expecting, who have offered him respectable amounts of cash, merely in exchange for his time.

Though Carl finds that a little hard to believe.

The offers are tempting, but it'll take a lot more than what they're willing to fork up to get through college. Plus, their profiles hadn't really been much to look at, either. If he's going to be having sex with these men, he figures he might as well choose ones that are at least moderately attractive with a tolerable personality.

Carl wonders if maybe his expectations are a bit too high for what he's able to offer. Though his hair does hide most of his wound, he wouldn't exactly consider himself eye candy. 

From what he's read, though, looks aren't everything. Well — sometimes they are. But in many cases, these guys are just looking for a friend. 

Part of this whole thing is playing a part. 

 _Pretending_ to be actually interested in these men, rather than their money. These guys want someone they can show off; someone they can have hanging off their arm, a trophy of sorts. Like a brand new sports car or something equally annoying — and they expect you to genuinely _enjoy_ it, to keep a smile plastered on your face as they talk to you about things you really couldn't care less about. Because there's nothing someone in their late teens or early twenties would rather be doing than sharing the company of a boring man upwards of seventy.

_Yes, I'd love to go on a month long trip to Barcelona with you, old man that I just met on the internet twenty minutes ago._

_You have a wife, you say? And four kids? Well, I don't mind, not at all._

_No, this isn't about the money. I love spending time with you._

But Carl is much too honest for that.

Maybe that'll make this that much harder, but so be it.

* * *

 It's been about two weeks since Carl decided to venture into this, with no luck so far. He even pulls out his lucky rabbit foot that he won at a carnival when he was twelve, but still, a whole bunch of nothing.

That is until he receives a message on Wednesday.

Knee deep in homework, Carl almost doesn't hear the notification, too busy multitasking as one hand makes quick work of an assignment, the other digging a fork into a steaming bowl of boxed macaroni and cheese.

He does hear it though, and pushes his schoolwork aside to open the notification.

 _(12:43 AM)_ Hello.

 _Wow_ , a real conversationalist, this one.

Still, though, Carl decides to check out his profile. It's tasteful enough. The bio isn't too long, not pretentious either. What really catches his eye is his profile picture. He's _handsome_ , and not even just for his age. He couldn't possibly be older than 55, and surely enough, his profile lists that he's a modest 51.

If Carl had seen him pass by on the street, he surely would have stopped to stare. He's got a short, trimmed beard, with patches of grey throughout. His hair is styled nicely, and his eyes behind his glasses look warm and inviting. Are they green or brown? Carl can't tell. He's got on a nice outfit, a simple blazer and crisp white shirt, nothing too gaudy. Thank god. It's listed that he's the CEO of some big aerospace engineering company. That might as well be gibberish to Carl, because all he hears is _money_. A _lot_ of money. The guy only has his first name listed, which is a bit strange, but Carl doesn't pay much attention to it.

 _Negan_. Carl rolls the name around on his tongue. Yeah, it's got a nice ring to it.

He decides to message back.

 _(12:50 AM)_ Hi, there. I liked your profile. You seem interesting. How's your night going?

It's simple. It's professional. Not too much, not too little.

The man responds a few minutes later.

 _(12:57 AM)_ It's going, thank you. Yours?

 _(12:58 AM)_ You aren't much of a talker, are you?

 _(1:02 AM)_  Just new to this is all. You're the first person I've messaged, actually.

"Interesting," Carl says to nobody but himself. 

 _(1:05 AM)_ Really? I'm flattered. My night is going pretty well. Just had dinner. If you don't mind me asking, what exactly are you looking for on here? Your profile didn't say much.

Carl conveniently leaves out the fact that dinner was a box of Kraft and a half empty Gatorade he found in the back of his fridge.

 _(1:06 AM)_ Dinner at one in the morning? Haha. I'm looking for something casual, I guess. Nothing intimate if you don't want it to be. Got bored of having money but no one to spend it on but myself, as incredulous as that sounds.

_Huh._

_(1:07 AM)_ That's college for you. No wife? Kids?

 _(1:08 AM)_ Nope. Just me. College, huh? I'm assuming that's why you're on here. By the way, what's with the eye?

There it is. Carl hadn't really bothered to hide it in the pictures he'd uploaded, though it was always covered by his bandage. 

 _(1:10 AM)_ Wow, you really know the way to a man's heart. And yep. 

 _(1:12 AM)_ Just asking. No judgements. It's pretty badass. It's why I decided to message you, actually.

Carl feels his face heat at that. Nobody has ever reacted that way to his eye before. Normally, it gets in the way of forming relationships. But it being the cause of one? A reason to pursue? That's new. He silently hopes this guy isn't a serial killer or someone with an extremely weird fetish.

 _(1:13 AM)_ No worries. I get asked pretty often. Plus, I'm willing to bet the story is a lot less interesting than you'd imagine. Take me on a date and maybe I'll tell you more about it.

Carl mentally pats himself on the back for the smooth transition. He hopes he wasn't too forward too soon, but who is he kidding here?

 _(1:20 AM)_ Okay. You can come over to my place. I'll cook dinner. Does Friday work for you? I suppose this is also a good time to discuss allowance. 5,000 a month, not including your rent, of course. I'll take care of that. If this works out.

Carl recounts the zeroes at least seven times to make sure he's reading it right. _Five thousand dollars? A month? Plus rent?_ Where has this gig been all his life? 

 _(1:23 AM)_ That's all fine by me. I just hope you're a good chef. 

 _(1:24 AM)_ Guess you'll have to find out.

* * *

"You're joking." Enid's voice is disbelieving as she practically yells into the phone.

" _No_ , I swear!" Carl answers excitedly. "And after that, he sent _five_   _hundred dollars_ to my Paypal and told me to buy something nice for Friday. I knew this was gonna pay off, man."

Carl holds the phone between his shoulder and ear, lazily flipping through the pages of a textbook.

"When I'm right, I'm right — I'd start getting used to it." Enid pauses. "Remember the time at the fair when I told you not to eat that whole funnel cake and you did it anyway and then threw it up on the Doomsday ride? But you also had a large Slurpee a couple hours before, so your puke was bright blue?"

Carl smiles fondly at the memory. He's pretty sure he's still got those pictures somewhere.

"Point taken, I guess. Still, though, this is great. Maybe now I won't have to survive off of frozen TV dinners and Chex Mix anymore?"

"It's not so bad. Though I got so desperate yesterday I went searching in the very back of my fridge. Found something that resembled a brownie, but I don't think that's what it was. Still ate it, though."

"You really gotta get it together, Enid."

* * *

After some deliberation, Carl decides to use the money Negan gave him to _actually_ go out and buy himself an outfit.

It never really occurred to him that there was an expectation to dress a certain way for these things.

What he picks up is nothing extravagant — as a matter of fact, Carl probably has similar pieces in his wardrobe already, but retail therapy is always good, and these were no doubt a _lot_ more expensive.

He decides on a pair of black jeans, which price tag nearly had Carl staggering and falling over the display, but they made his ass look fantastic, so he basically had no choice but to buy them. It was like God forced his hand.

To go along with them is a simple black v-neck, one that shows just the right amount of skin and hugs his figure nicely. 

Lastly, a black lace thong. Physically being there and having to look people in the eye to buy it was a less than ideal situation, even though the wonderfully ignorant women working at the store probably thought he was just buying it for his girlfriend or something.

If only life were that simple. 

Truthfully, Carl has no intention of sleeping with Negan so soon. He _did_ say that intimacy was optional, so he mostly did this for himself as a way of boosting confidence. Also, wearing his same old plain boxer shorts under a pair of two hundred dollar designer jeans just wouldn't do. It seems immoral, or perhaps illegal. 

When everything is good and done, receipt in hand, Carl realizes he actually has a little bit of money left over. The logical part of him decides it would be a good idea to pick up some food that's actually got some sort of nutritional value, so he makes a mental note to stop by the grocer later. 

It's almost dark by the time he's finished shopping, so he hurries home, earpods in as he walks.

His arms ache from carrying the bags by the time he gets back, but he pushes on, unlocking the door to his apartment and swiftly shutting it behind him.

In the corner, his laptop greets him with a few school emails that he deems to be not important enough to devote his attention to and a Skype message from Enid of a funny cat picture.

That night, for the first time in a long time, he actually cooks himself dinner. Like, really cooks. Nothing crazy, just spaghetti and a side salad, but he feels oddly proud that it's edible and he managed not to set the kitchen on fire in the process.

Later, he sends Enid a goodnight message and tries not to let the anxiety that's currently boring a hole into his stomach get the best of him.

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are appreciated!


End file.
